Midnight Lamp (36 page)

‘The furnishings are classier,’ he said.

They shared a smile: telepathy artefacts. ‘Still buzzing?’

‘You betcha. Swarms and
swarms
of bees.’

‘But you’ll be all right for this meeting?’

‘Fuck off. Will
you
be all right? I will not fall over anything.’

The air-conditioning cut out. The electrical company was doing unscheduled supply dips, as a planet-saving measure. They waited, as if listening, as a tincture of mild warmth entered the air: something coughed, and the chill returned.

‘We go in there, we do and say whatever, we leave unmolested. That’s the objective, no use trying to script it, we’ll work it out as we go along.’

‘Yeah. Be fluid.’ Sage looked over at an open closet, filled with Hollywood clothes it had amused him to acquire, at Digital Artists’ expense. ‘What shall I wear to meet the Director of the FBI? Hahaha. Maybe I should wear a dress.’

‘I’ll wear the dress, fuckwit. I’m the one with the long hair. Wear a suit.’

To have been so close and lost her again filled them with dread, everything was omened now. But win or lose, this was unstoppable.

The Committee had borrowed a corporate-gracious salon in Marshall Morgan’s office suite. Sage and Ax arrived an hour and a half late, wearing their Mexican gangster suits for old time’s sake. Mr Joseph Raine made the rounds politely this time: introducing Special Agent Andreas Kohl, Counterterrorism, Special Agents Philemon Roche and Karen Phillips, Cultists and Insurrectionists; whom you know. Jan Brudik, Civil Operations Adviser, for the LAPD and the State of California. Marshall Morgan, and Harry Lopez you know of course. The spiky blonde with the Texan accent was officially revealed as Steph Warchez of I-Systems, world-class Artificial Intelligence scientist turned business woman. You could take her as representing the secret rulers of this great nation. The military lady from Maryland was Miriam Beaufort, Colonel of the National Guard, US Pacific Command: not much known in the media, but a very significant person these restless days.

Miriam Beaufort and Stephanie Warchez they’d recognised last time. Kohl and Brudik were presumably on the same level. The lawyers were called Grizel Watt-Andersen and David Ng, for whatever that was worth. But the naming of names told them that a charade was over, and their hackles rose; they were glad they hadn’t scripted anything. They looked again at the faces, and saw, falling into phase, that everything was rewritten.

‘There have been some changes, since we last met,’ said Joseph Raine. ‘We have recently discovered that Ms Slater is still alive.’

‘Oh yes?’ said Ax, without flicker of surprise. ‘So where is she?’

The FBI chief pondered this response, and nodded slowly. ‘Let me start at the beginning. Last winter, two General Electric Gauss 0003/zyg series Cr/t imaging scanners went missing. Yes, I said missing, not stolen. The paper trail indicated that they’d vanished within the establishment, I mean the Pentagon. Cognitive scanners are massive pieces of equipment, but these things do happen. When we were convinced that the machines weren’t standing in a corridor somewhere, the President was informed, because this seemed a move in a dark game. We already knew that certain people in positions of great power had been covertly investigating the “quick and dirty” route to the new super-weapon. When the Celtic murders were recognised, and rumours of a “Fat Boy” reached us, the Committee was brought together. We believed we were investigating an internal scandal. We were wrong. We have discovered, very recently, where the scanners are located, and who is using them.’ Mr Raine’s paused, his long, solemn face growing sombre indeed. ‘It’s not good news. They’re in the hands of a group of Republic of California Countercultural extremists, sometimes calling themselves the Invisible People. They are holding Ms Slater.’

He proceeded to tell them that Fiorinda’s disappearence had been regarded as extremely serious from the outset. An investigation had been set in train, that the English had known nothing about. Before the Toyota was found in Carlsbad, or the body in the boat dock, the FBI had known that she’d been taken alive and passed from cell to cell, through an underground network of secret activists.

‘We’d been provided with a body, obviously so that the case would be closed. We made the best use of this, and continued to follow our trail. But the body itself, when examined, gave us alarming information. It was a chimera… I won’t go into details, but we found we had proof, beyond reasonable doubt, that the Invisible People had gained access to mind-matter manipulation, otherwise known as “effective magic”. That’s where we were, or thereabouts, when we last met you. We’re now beginning to trace the links, and maybe we know how the ‘Celtic’ sacrifices had the puzzling immunity we took as indicating a very high level cover-up.’

‘A fatal error, or they don’t give a damn anymore,’ said Jan Brudik. ‘We believe it’s the latter. The death of Lazarus Catskill is another red light.’

‘He was about to talk,’ Sage pointed out. ‘I suppose that was the problem.’

‘One doesn’t punish a major bankroller by killing him. Not unless money is no longer an issue. It doesn’t encourage the others,’ added Raine dryly.

‘I thought the US didn’t have an aggressive Counterculture,’ said Ax. ‘You never caught the European disease. Or so we’ve been told.’

‘We have eco-warriors,’ Miriam Beaufort smiled, without much humour. ‘We don’t allow them the oxygen of publicity. Would you, after what happened in Europe? They haven’t been considered dangerous. Controllable protests, a steady few arrests across the country; though there are hotspots. We—’ She glanced at Raine, a shared agreement to come clean (these two made the decisions). ‘We didn’t know this Californian network existed. Now we know they’re trying to build human weapons, the cognitive feedback scanners prove that. We also know, we’ve had this explained to us by the experts, that “effective magic” is the big step. Once you have that, you’re there. You have someone who can certainly be boosted to fusion.’

‘I’ve been told,’ said Raine, ‘that “fusion” in this context could open the door to the “It’s A Good Life scenario”, the state O’Niall was in danger of reaching, before his execution. Do you understand that term? It’s the term I’ve been instructed to use, in my briefing.’

Sage and Ax looked at each other, straightfaced.

‘What do you intend to do?’ asked Ax.

‘We must take them out, Mr Preston, to use the vernacular. We weren’t expecting this, but we’ll soon have the authority to act. The firepower is ready to go, because these are troubled times. We have a plan, but your advice would be very welcome.’

Sage frowned, ‘Why did we have to believe she was dead? You know, I think we might deserve an explanation of that.’

‘We’re telling you now,’ answered Mr Raine, with finality. ‘You were to be told the full story at an appropriate point, this is deemed to be that point.’

‘I’ll say one thing,’ broke in Steph Warchez, ‘about this raid, now our English friends are here… If you don’t destroy the Fat Boy you’ve achieved zippo, except to give them a warning: and nothing says he or she has to be near the nest.’

‘Everyone’s aware of that line of reasoning, Steph,’ said Mr Raine. ‘I admit that we do not know enough, but we know re Fiorinda Slater is, and she is Rufus O’Niall’s daughter. Our inside contact insists that no coercion has been used, Mr Preston,’ he added, soberly. ‘She’s holding out, but they’re making demands. We don’t know the extent of her mind-matter manipulation potential, or talent, whatever you call it. We do know she’s in an extremely dangerous position.’

‘Would your girlfriend break under torture?’ said Special Agent Kohl, a white guy in his forties, with receding hair and a neat dark beard. He had dog-eyes, heavily shadowed: nobody here looked as if they’d been sleeping much. ‘Excuse me for cutting the crap, but that’s what we’re talking about.’

‘No,’ said Ax, ‘I would say not.’

The Committee members glanced at each other.

‘There’s something I want you guys to know,’ announced Miriam Beaufort. ‘I’m in favour of a superweapon that offers low casualties and clean strikes. I was unsure about the President’s line on Vireo Lake. I’m now with Mr Eiffrich all the way. I have seen where it’s heading and we’d be insane to go down that road.’

There was a murmur of assent, relief at this ray of light. Marshall Morgan, cowed in the midst of his own splendour, kept quiet. Harry Lopez studied the carpet. He hadn’t raised his eyes since Sage and Ax walked in.

‘Well, we must get her out,’ announced Raine, placing his hams of hands palm down, with emphasis. ‘And that’s what we’re going to do. We’re going in there in force, overkill, taking no chances. We’re staying on the ground, all the way, Mr Preston, with the minimum possible reliance on electronics—’

‘We understand that’s advisable?’ asked Jan Brudik.

‘It worked for us,’ said Ax. ‘I’d stick with it: low tech as possible. When is the raid coming off? You realise we’ll want to be attached?’

‘Where is this
nest
?’ asked Sage. ‘It’s in California?’

Mr Raine answered Ax, ignoring Sage’s question. ‘That’s something to discuss. At all events we intend to keep you fully informed every step of the way, and this leads me to the waiver, which you have seen before. We need you to sign before we bring you further in. It’s essential red tape. Let’s do it.’

Ah, the document again. Ax accepted his copy. He didn’t get the value of a signature (given under coercion!) on a piece of paper, but he understood that these people had the kind of power he had seen arise in Europe, over the last years: pragmatic, secret, absolute. The power he had possessed himself, for a while. It was ironic that they thought they could win Ax’s trust by coming out against fusion consciousness experiments. They were wrong, it was unstoppable, neither good nor evil, case of what you used it for, same as any new science, new technology. But now he must sign, or this was a dead end. Horrible, but meaningless and it must be done. He took out his fountain pen, and noticed it was beautiful, an old friend, good to feel in his hand. He was planning how he’d take charge, once they’d let him in. Do an Ax Preston on them. But Harry was looking at the floor.

The room was full of fear, it bloomed in the air like a black, transparent rose, with misty tentacles of limitless dread. The black rose, in all those pairs of high-powered eyes, trained on him so intently. Ah. They don’t intend for her to survive. Of course they don’t intend for her to survive. They’re going to kill her.

He didn’t even glance at Sage, whose presence was so strong beside him.

‘Mr Raine,’ he said, laying down the pen. ‘There’s something I’d like you to do for me. I’d like you to call off your secret service, excuse me if that’s the wrong term. I want you to leave us without minders, for, oh, twenty four hours? You’re all over us, and you’re very visible. We led you to Lazarus Catskill. I think we could get hold of extremely valuable information here in LA: but not unless you leave us alone. No tricks, these people are professionals, completely alone.’

‘Hm.’

Glances around the table.

Please, thought Ax, nobody point out that Laz was immediately killed. But he knew they would agree. They needed Ax’s co-operation.

‘We could do that,’ said Miriam Beaufort. ‘There’s time.’

‘You’ve got it,’ said Joseph Raine.

Sage was turning pages, muttering to himself, marking places. He leaned over, and asked Ax, in an indignant undertone. ‘Did you see 37b (iii)?’

‘I saw it,’ said Ax, with reserve. ‘I suppose it must have some relevance.’

‘I don’t see why.’ Sage held up the document. ‘Mr Raine, we’re happy to look at a waiver to protect the US government from our grievance suits, but I wouldn’t sign this if my mother’s life depended on it. We have careers you know, we’re dead without the media. You’ll have to change some wording, reframe a few things. Excuse us, we need to talk to our lawyers.’ He bounced to his feet, and crossed to the side table where Watt-Andersen and Ng were sitting: Ax went with him. ‘Okay, We want you to move fast, you may well believe, but see what you can do about this…and this…oh, and
this!
’

The lawyers looked to Raine, who gave them the nod. They took instruction, looking as if as if they weren’t sure they weren’t hallucinating all this. ‘You can get any information the studio doesn’t have from Allie at Sunset Cape,’ said Ax. ‘We’ll expect a new draft, in a few hours? Sage, shall we be on our way?’

‘Don’t forget 37b (iii),’ said Sage. ‘I want you to
lose
that one.’

They walked out, in a swirl of gangster-pastels.

‘Well, whaddya know,’ said Marsh, with a gleam of
schadenfreude
. He grinned at the scary ensemble. ‘Maybe they really are rockstars.’

They took the Rugrat out of Digital Artists, and into the park next door.

‘This is a
very dangerous
drug
,’ said Ax, gripping the Rat’s wheel so hard it began to tremble in sympathy. ‘What have we just done?’

‘I know. I
know
it’s dangerous. Fee w-would kill me if she knew I had you—’

They’d been nowhere near to the Zen Self state, last night on the Hollywood Bowl stage, but they had been close enough that they were tanked to the eyeballs on simultaneity. They were manic. Time’s arrow was spinning head over heels, every impulse was
right
, every move they made was fabulously, inevitably falling into phase. They knew that this feeling told them nothing about the outcome. You can be gloriously at one with a tragic and terrible fate—

Ax lit a cigarette and drew on it fiercely. ‘Sssh, Rat, it’s okay… Oh God, Sage, what if we just fucked up our only chance?’

‘Nah. That was nothing. We know where to get the information we need.’

Ax didn’t like the tone of his big cat’s voice. ‘Sage,
you are not invulnerable
. I saw you last time you’d been out to play with fusion in you.’

‘Not invulnerable,’ Sage repeated, drilling himself in the left temple, and cackling. ‘Not invulnerable!’ He was awkwardly using one of the fingers he’d had all along: a bad sign. ‘Hey, don’t worry. The fall’s going to kill us. Fusion will drop us, we’ll crash and burn long before we get to the sharp end of this.’